See Mou carries a basket full of ripe tomatoes she picked from land in May Township that she and her husband, along with more than 30 fellow Hmong farmers, rent from a local landowner. (Pioneer Press: Ben Garvin)

See Mou carries a basket full of ripe tomatoes she picked from land in May Township that she and her husband, along with more than 30 fellow Hmong farmers, rent from a local landowner. (Pioneer Press: Ben Garvin)

Standing just 5 feet tall, Robert Lor can almost disappear into his rows of okra.

"My okra is very good; you can eat it like this," said the 54-year-old farmer as he snapped the crispy, raw vegetable between his teeth.

But Lor's green okra is against the rules. In March, five months before the okra sprouted to 4 feet, May Township passed an ordinance regulating the use of agricultural garden plots. Lor and more than 30 Hmong farmers learned their rented land north of Stillwater was out of compliance in late spring -- after the season's seeds were sown.

The ordinance calls for property owners to apply for a permit for plots larger than five acres, with a maximum plot size of 40 acres. The ordinance prohibits activity from a half hour after sunset until 7 a.

Robert Lor loads his van with produce from land he and a group of Hmong farmers rent in May Township. Lor enlisted the aid of a nonprofit legal service for family farmers after the township passed an ordinance regulating the use of agricultural garden plots. (Pioneer Press: Ben Garvin)

m., requires on-site toilets and stipulates buildings must be constructed according to code and removed during winter.

Landowner David Johnson, who could not be reached for comment, rented about 30 acres to farmers in 2011, said Bill Voedisch, the May Township board chairman. This year, he is renting more than 100 acres.

"We are just trying to put in some controls," Voedisch said.

Voedisch said two copies of the ordinance were given to Johnson in February. Johnson and the farmers were invited to attend a public hearing in February, but no one showed, Voedisch said.

"There was a breakdown, I think, in communication between David Johnson and the farmers," Voedisch said.

Voedisch has since scheduled a farm tour with Lor in the next two weeks.

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Afterward, the township plans to revisit the ordinance, and Voedisch cited three previous ordinances on which the township has worked with affected groups.

"We are going to start with a site tour and put the ordinance aside for a minute," Voedisch said. "That was missing in the process because of the breakdown in communication."

When Lor, who serves as spokesman for the Hmong farmers, read about the ordinance, he sought assistance from the Farmers' Legal Action Group, or FLAG, a St.

See Mou empties her bin of tomatoes. Mou and her husband, Lor, sell their produce at several farmers' markets to help support their family. (Pioneer Press: Ben Garvin)

Paul-based nonprofit legal service for family farmers.

"This ordinance makes no sense," said Susan Stokes, executive director of FLAG. "It targets vegetable production in a rural agricultural area where other forms of production -- corn, soybeans, any kind of conventional agriculture -- are untouched by the ordinance."

Former U.S. Attorney David Lillehaug is helping the farmers pro bono. In late July, Lillehaug filed data practices act requests with the township. The requests ask for, among other things, documents on the ordinance's origins, any complaints regarding the plots and any reference to Hmong, Asian people or immigrants.

Voedisch said town attorney Dave Snyder is managing the requests and "all town officials are cooperating."

CHARGES OF RACISM

Lor and his wife, See Moua, who live in North St. Paul, emigrated from Laos more than 30 years ago and have become U.S. citizens. They raised nine children, now ages 18 to 30. Lor worked on a medical device assembly line until he was laid off in 2009. Since then, temporary work has been sporadic, he said, forcing him to rely on farming.

Lor and his wife sell okra, cucumbers, corn, watermelon, peppers, eggplant and more at up to five farmers' markets each week. A small basket of okra -- about the size of Lor's cupped, dirt-covered hands -- goes for $2. They earn up to $2,000 a week during the peak months of August and September. To prepare for the markets, they are sometimes in the fields picking produce before 6 a.m., a violation of the ordinance.

Lor and Stokes presented the farmers' positions during a township board meeting earlier this summer.

"We told them what our farmers were doing there, and how the ordinance presents a significant hardship in their ability to make a living," Stokes recalled.

Lor said the ordinance shows the township is "not welcoming."

"It was written because the city doesn't like seeing us here," Lor said. "We come in and don't bother people. I don't know how come they don't like us."

Voedisch, board chair for more than 14 years, dismissed all claims of racism.

"The whole reason for the ordinance is to protect the health, safety and welfare of not only the township residents, but its visiting gardeners," Voedisch said. "To suggest that that is biased against the gardeners is ridiculous. We are doing it for the gardeners."

Voedisch gave two examples about how the ordinance helps farmers. The portable bathrooms will provide adequate sanitation, and buildings built to code will provide safer shelter during storms.

The town board has had difficulty working with property owner Johnson, Voedisch said. Since about 1990, the board has failed in its attempts to reduce the number of vehicles on Johnson's property across the road from the garden plots. Voedisch said Johnson now has 66 vehicles, and they are more than an eyesore; they create an environmental issue with gas, oil and antifreeze still inside. Voedisch said no legal action has been taken against Johnson.

"You are better off trying to work with people instead of doing things the expensive and hard way," Voedisch said of legal action.

Stokes says the township's dispute with Johnson is beside the point.

"The ordinance has to go," Stokes said. "We don't care about their issues with Johnson. The issue is about the farm."

TRYING TO COMPLY

Lor and Stokes said the Hmong farmers have worked to comply with aspects of the ordinance. Two portable bathrooms were placed on the property in May.

But the ordinance states portable bathrooms must be screened from adjacent properties and rights-of-way. Paul Avenue North runs along the west side of the farmland. Other portable toilets aren't shielded in parks or other public places, said Lor, using the translation help of Hli Xyooj, a staff attorney with FLAG.

There were no portable bathrooms on Johnson's property in 2011, Voedisch said.

"We had no idea where the human waste was going," he said.

The Hmong farmers also have removed a few of the lean-to shelters erected on the farmland. But three plywood structures remained this month.

"Things are better out there," Voedisch said, "and that's good."

Those shelters are necessary, Xyooj said, as a place for farmers to store tools and supplies.

"In the Hmong culture, farms are often away from homes, so shelters are needed for resting and eating," Xyooj said. "It's ingrained in the culture."

Mao Chong, 65, of Brooklyn Park is a new farmer in May Township this year. He said he emigrated from Laos in the 1970s and became a citizen about 10 years ago. He and his wife, Mua, farmed near Braham for seven years and switched to May Township for the quality soil and to be among Hmong, who, he says, have unwritten standards at the farm.

"The farm has an agreement to be peace-loving and with rules to abide by," Chong said through Xyooj. "If they don't abide by those rules, then they are asked to leave.

"I hope the town board people can see we are here to be friends," Chong said. "I hope the township will be willing to work with us."

Lor said the Hmong farmers want to continue to plant tall okra and other vegetables in May Township for years to come.

"We pray every night that they open their white hearts," Lor said, "not their black hearts."